Vengeance
by snapesgirl21
Summary: Re-released. A horrifying loss drives Stephanie into a darkness she didn't know existed. One-shot.


_**A/N: This is a dark story with violence. Just FYI in case you can't handle that sort of thing.**_

Growing up with my sister Valerie had been a trial. She had been the perfect child to my problem child. I had simultaneously relished our differences and been jealous of her. Not that I had wanted to be her, but wished that I could have received the same sort of approval from our parents for being myself as she did.

Her perfection had come crashing down around her when she was thirty-two and her husband abandoned her with two kids and a ton of debt in order to run off with the eighteen year-old babysitter that he had gotten pregnant. She had lived with our parents for over year while she found a job, got pregnant by her quirky boss, and gave birth to his child. They had eventually gotten out on their own, had gotten married, and had another child. Things had gone well for a couple of years, until Jackson Caldwell came onto the scene.

Caldwell had come to Trenton three weeks after my niece Angie's twelfth birthday and had swept my sister off her feet. He was the polar opposite of Valerie's husband Albert, who was soft, pudgy, socially inept, but sweet. Caldwell had piercing sapphire blue eyes, wavy black hair, and a dazzling smile. He was charming and dangerous, and had convinced Valerie to leave her husband and children within two weeks of meeting her. Albert had shown up at my parents' house sobbing with all four kids in tow the night Valerie had packed a suitcase, kissed all of them goodbye, and walked away.

She didn't answer her cell phone—it turned out she had left it at the house— and she didn't visit. No one saw or heard from Valerie for four months. We had no idea if she was in Trenton or even still in New Jersey. I had asked Morelli for help, but his hands were tied. She had willingly walked away, so there was no legal recourse to look for her. I had gone to Ranger next, who had started an extensive search on Jackson Caldwell. The information that had come rolling in had been absolutely terrifying.

He had numerous arrests for pimping, domestic violence, and drug possession across four states. He had served minimal jail time due to witnesses who went missing, lack of evidence to convict, and plea bargains. Three of his girlfriends had vanished without a trace in the past eight years. He was also smart and had done a good job to live off-the-grid as much as possible, but Ranger was better. He had tracked Jackson down to a run-down apartment building in Atlantic City, just a few blocks away from the casinos.

Ranger and I had left that afternoon to do surveillance. It was a four-story brick building in the middle of a block of similar buildings. Many of the buildings, including the one we were watching, had suffered damage from Hurricane Sandy that had never been repaired. This building was the least damaged, but still looked unsafe.

"Do you think he could have moved on by now?" I asked Ranger after we had been watching the building for two hours. Ranger had done a walk-through and found evidence of people staying in there, but hadn't encountered anyone.

"I don't think so," he replied, his eyes never leaving the building. "There was a used condom on the floor that looked recent. Plus food and other supplies that I don't think he would have left behind. And it looked like they have been here for a while."

We were in one of the Rangeman fleet cars, which was a black Escalade with tinted windows. The car gave us protection and respect from the people who loitered around the neighborhood. Drug deals were occurring openly on corners and a deathly-thin blonde woman with dark roots serviced johns on the front stoop of a building on the corner of the block. I felt sorry for her as I watched man after man show up. I tried not to stare as she knelt on the ground in front of hideous, drugged up men or as she was bent over the railing while they pounded their body into hers, but I couldn't help but check on her occasionally. Just in case one of the men got violent.

I had only meant to close my eyes for a minute, but by the time Ranger touched my leg and woke me up, it was nearly dark.

"Caldwell's coming up the sidewalk," he said, indicating a tall figure in jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. It was Caldwell, who I had only ever seen in the flesh once, but I had never forgotten what he looked like. He had the swagger of a man who fears no one, and I watched as he approached the prostitute on the corner. He talked to her and I watched as she handed over a wad of cash.

"He must be that woman's pimp," I said, straining to get a better look at the pair. "Where the hell is Valerie? I thought she'd be with him."

"Stephanie—she is with him," Ranger said, his voice soft and serious.

"Where?"

But Ranger didn't have to say anything else. As Caldwell and the prostitute got closer to the car, I felt bile begin to churn in my stomach. The blonde woman, who was so sickly thin and had been performing sexual acts for the past four hours, was Valerie June Plum Kloughn—the sister I had stolen barbies from and chased with bugs when we were little. She had been the Virgin Mary in the Nativity play at our church three years in a row. She had gotten straight-As in school. She had given birth to four little kids who missed her. I didn't feel the tears on my face, but knew they were there because they blurred my vision. The sobs that emanated from me sounded as though they were coming from someone else. My view of Caldwell and Valerie vanished as Ranger pulled me into him, my face buried into his neck. He stroked my hair and I could feel his warm breath on my ear. I wasn't sure how long we stayed like that, but what broke us apart was the sound of a car engine turning over.

"They're leaving," Ranger said. A blue Ford Explorer pulled away from the curb on the opposite side of the road, did a U-turn, and headed away from us. Ranger started the Escalade and followed at a safe distance. They drove several blocks east until stopping in front of a liquor store. I watched as Valerie got out, cash in hand, and went inside the store. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door.

"I'm going inside to talk to her," I said as I climbed out. I didn't wait for Ranger's reply.

I hurriedly walked towards the door, hoping that Caldwell wouldn't see me in his review mirror and recognize me. Not that I expected he would, but you could never be too sure. People like him had a tendency to have better memories than given credit for, though their reasoning was generally self-serving. The liquor store was dark and dirty, and the man who worked behind the counter looked as though he should be behind bars. Or in a padded cell. I walked past two aisles before finding Valerie in front of the whiskey display. She was dressed in a short blue skirt and white tank top. It was chilly outside, but she had to look the part. The minimal clothes also showed bruises that I suspected had been inflicted by Caldwell.

"Val?" I whispered, thought it still made her jump. The look of terror in her eyes alarmed me so much that I turned to see if Caldwell was standing behind me. Once I was reassured that he was nowhere around, I took a cautious step towards her, as though I were approaching a wounded, unfamiliar animal.

"Val, let me take you home," I said quietly. "Ranger is here—he can help. Please, the kids and Albert miss you. We've all missed you."

Valerie shook her head violently and wrapped her arms around her body.

"I can't," she said. Her voice cracked with strain, as though she rarely used it anymore. "He'll kill me. He'll kill the kids and Albert. I can't leave. He loves me. I need him."

As I got closer to her, I reached out and gently grasped one of her hands. She let her arm fall from her waist as she held onto me. A brief glance at her forearm showed track marks.

"He has you hooked on heroin," I stated, tears falling down my cheeks. "And he beats you, And he makes you work as a prostitute. He doesn't love you, Valerie. He's just using you. Just like he has used a lot of other women, and some of them have disappeared. You need to come back with me. Your children need you."

It was now Valerie's turn to cry. "They are better off without me," she said. She let go of my hand and reached for a bottle on a nearby shelf. "You need to go, Stephanie. He'll kill you."

I followed her up to the counter, trying my best to convince her to walk out the door to Ranger's car, but my pleading fell on deaf ears. I tried everything I could think of from the kids to Albert to our parents and grandparents. I talked about drug treatment and counseling and promised her—even though I didn't have the authority, I trusted it to be true—that Ranger would make sure Caldwell didn't come for her or her family. She never spoke to me or acted as though she could hear me. The scary-looking man behind the counter gave me an odd look, but said nothing. When we got outside, it was to find Caldwell leaning against the passenger side of the car smoking a joint. He reached for the bag Valerie had in her hand.

"It's about fucking time," he said gruffly. "What the hell were you doing, making the shit?"

Valerie shook her head and walked around the car to get behind the wheel. "Sorry," she whispered as she climbed in and closed the door behind her. I wasn't sure which of us was being given the apology. Caldwell caught me staring.

"You got a problem?" he asked. Something inside me snapped.

"Yes, I do," I said, walking up to him. "You beat my sister, have gotten her hooked on heroin, and make her prostitute herself to make money for _you_. And I'm not leaving you alone until I get her back home."

Caldwell hadn't moved to get in the car as I had spoken but had merely opened his whiskey and started drinking straight from the bottle. A small smile had crept up on his lips.

"No one leaves me," he said confidently. "She isn't going to leave me. She needs me for her fix. She knows what I can do to make her pay if she doesn't do as she's told."

Caldwell suddenly fell sideways as the car he was leaning against pulled away from the curb. Valerie was driving off without him. I took off at a run and climbed into the Escalade. Ranger was pulling away from the curb to follow the second my door was shut. Valerie sped through the rundown neighborhoods and headed towards the Turnpike. I had expected she would drive north towards Trenton, but instead she pulled onto the south bound lane. Ranger kept up with Valerie as she weaved in and out of traffic.

She suddenly pulled off onto an exit, but made a U-turn and came back down going the wrong way. Then she merged back onto the turnpike going in the wrong direction. For a split second, I wondered if she was going to crash into the Escalade head on, but she sped past us and I watched in the side mirror as she increased her speed and intentionally drove into a gasoline tanker. Ranger pulled off to the side of the road as the collision caused an explosion. Cars veered out of the way to avoid it, but most kept on driving. I knew all of this because I had climbed out of the car as soon as it had stopped and had started running towards the accident, screaming for my sister. Cars had to swerve to miss hitting me as I ran across the lanes of traffic. I could see the driver of the semi climbing out of his cab. He was clutching his chest and it looked like he was bleeding from the head. But my focus was on the Ford Explorer, which was now engulfed in flames. I tried to listen for Valerie's screams for help, and I watched for any sign that she was trying to open her door, but neither seemed likely. I had to get to the car and try to drag her out.

I was about five feet from the car when strong arms grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back.

"You can't help her," Ranger shouted over the noise, which turned out to be my screaming. He pulled me away from the car as I fought against him with every ounce of strength I possessed. In my peripheral vision I saw flashing police lights on the opposite side of the highway and vaguely registered someone running towards us before everything went black.

Five days later, I sat in the first row of the church between my mother and Grandma Mazur. My mother was sobbing uncontrollably while Grandma Mazur seemed to shake more than sob. My father looked as though the pain might kill him right there. Angie and Mary Alice were seated on either side of Albert, both crying. The Lisa and Bert had been left with a babysitter, neither one old enough to understand. Albert's face was white and tears fell down his cheeks as the priest spoke. I seemed to be the only one not crying. I wasn't sure I had any tears left in me. I felt numb as I stared at the coffin that contained my sister's charred body. They had used dental records to officially identify her.

The church was packed with family members, friends, high school classmates, and pretty much anyone else who had known Valerie. The Burg loved a funeral, especially when it was something catastrophic. I couldn't focus on what the priest was saying, but found myself reliving the events that had unfolded after I had passed out.

Ranger had informed the police of what had happened and I had been taken to a local emergency room for shock. The police had gone to look for Caldwell to question him, hadn't been able to find him that night. Rangeman and the police were both watching the building in Atlantic City, but he had never returned to it. I had asked that the police let me tell my parents, and they had agreed, as they legally had to inform Albert as her husband and next-of-kin. Ranger also stayed with me as I knocked on my parents door at two in the morning. I had been worried that my mother might have a heart attack on the spot as I told her what had happened. She had collapsed into my father's arms and howled like a wounded animal. Ranger had stayed with me that night, not even asking if I wanted him to do so, but simply steered me towards my bed and held me as we both laid awake until sunrise. I knew he was currently at the back of the church, dressed in one of those perfectly-tailored black suits that I loved so much. Morelli was also there, seated several rows behind me. We hadn't been together lately, but he had still shown up at my apartment to console me when he heard about Valerie. He hadn't even made a crappy comment or given me a strange look when he found Ranger with me.

The police had found Caldwell two days ago and had questioned him extensively. But two hours before the funeral the detective on the case had called Albert to say that they didn't have enough evidence to hold him and had been forced to release Caldwell. They promised they would do what they could to catch him doing something that they could put him away for, but I knew it wouldn't happen. Caldwell would just move on to another state and another woman, and history would repeat itself. I felt a hand take hold of mine and didn't have to look to know it was Ranger. The scent of Bulgari was a comforting, welcome change to the smell of funeral flowers. I opted to ride with him to the cemetery, leaving the rest of my family to ride in the limousine. We were silent on the ride over, but he held onto my hand the whole time. The graveside portion was brief because it was pouring rain. My parents were the last ones to walk away, and I stopped Grandma Mazur to tell her that I wasn't going to the wake. She squeezed my hand and nodded her understanding.

Ranger took me back to my apartment and walked me inside. I had explained to him on the ride there about Caldwell being released. He hadn't seemed terribly surprised. He said people in his position knew how to keep themselves clean.

I curled up on my bed, not bothering to take off my coat or heels. "Will you hold me?" I asked.

Ranger wordlessly laid down on the bed and pulled me into his chest. I listened to the slow, steady beat of his heart and felt his chest barely rise and fall with each breath. I wasn't sure how long we laid like that, but it had given me to time to resolve myself to what I needed to do. And to work up the courage to say it out loud.

"Caldwell needs to die. Slowly and painfully," I said.

Ranger rubbed a small circle on my back. "I know, babe."

"I need you to tell me how to do it. And how to get rid of the body so it can never be found."

His hand stopped its movement on my back. "Babe."

I sat up to face him. His expression was inscrutable, but I knew he was concerned.

"I'm serious," I said. "I can't keep going while I know he is out there. He's going to do it again, and he deserves to die for what he did to her."

"Stephanie, I know you want revenge, but you can't do it."

"If you tell me—," I began, but he interrupted me.

"I'm not just talking about the details of it. What I mean is that you are not capable of torturing and murdering someone, even if that person is responsible for abusing your sister and driving her to her death," Ranger said.

"I think I could," I said determinedly. "I had to watch my sister burn to death. I think I could manage to watch him suffer."

Ranger studied me for a minute and then sat up on the edge of the bed. "If you really want this, I'll do it."

"I can't ask you—,"

"You aren't asking. I'm telling you I'll do it. I also watched her die, and I've had to watch you suffer. I know what to do, and I am capable doing it. And I'm willing to do it for you."

I felt my blood almost run cold with slight panic. I knew what Ranger was capable of, and there was probably more that I didn't know. But I also knew it wouldn't be enough for me to just know it.

"I have to be there. I need to see it happen."

"Babe, I'd rather you weren't there. Even watching something like that damages you."

"I'm already damaged," I whispered. "This will help me start to fix some of that. I have to be there."

Ranger leaned over and kissed me gently. "Babe, please. Don't insist on it. It isn't just that I don't want you to see that. I don't want you to see that side of me."

Tears pricked my eyes and I wrapped my arms around him. "I can't let you do this. I can't let you do that to yourself. I can't let you be ashamed to have me see a part of you. You need to tell me what to do, and I'll do it alone."

"No." It was firm, and left no question that he was going to stay true to his word. He let go of me and held me at arm's length. "If you really need to be there, then I'll make sure you're there."

I didn't hear from Ranger for over two weeks. He had told me not to have any contact with him unless it was absolutely necessary and to not talk about anything related to Caldwell over the phone. I had gotten back to work during that time and took out some of my residual anger on FTAs, particularly the ones I hauled in on drug or domestic violence charges. My mother had suffered a minor heart attack a few days after the funeral, and I had been staying at the house since to help out. I had been asleep when I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed and a hand clamped over my mouth.

"Babe," Ranger's voice said quietly from the dark. I sighed and he moved his hand.

"I've got him," he said. "Get dressed in clothes and shoes that you don't care to throw away if necessary and bring extras for later."

I pulled on a pair of black yoga pants, a plain black t-shirt, and my rattiest sneakers. I grabbed jeans, a red shirt, and a pair of boots for later. I stuffed the clothes into my messenger bag and followed Ranger quietly out of the house. The clock on the stove was the only light downstairs and it told me that it was almost midnight. Ranger and I walked through the neighborhood and climbed into a silver sedan parked a block away. We drove through the city and parked in a lot belonging to an apartment complex on the edge of town.

"We're walking the rest of the way," he said, and I followed him as he crossed the street and cut through an empty lot. We walked for about twenty minutes before arriving at an abandoned auto repair shop. The windows were blacked out and I could see two Rangemen watching the perimeter. We walked around to the back of the building and Tank opened to the door to admit us. He locked the door behind us, handed Ranger a black duffle bag, and stood guard as I was guided me towards a second door. It lead to a basement with another locked door.

Caldwell's wrists were being restrained by chains hanging from the ceiling. His legs had collapsed underneath him and he was basically hanging. He ankles were also restrained by chains bolted to the floor. He had a dark bruise on his cheek and he smelled of urine and feces. He looked exhausted and dehydrated. I looked around the room and realized that it had been soundproofed and the floor was covered in thick plastic.

"How long as he been here?" I asked.

"Two days."

Ranger took off his jacket and set it down in the corner along with the duffle bag. "Are you sure you want to watch this?" he asked.

"I don't _want_ to watch it, but I need to," I said quietly. He nodded, and looked as though he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

"Look, I'm sorry about Val," Caldwell said in a weak, panicked voice. "I didn't mean for her to do that. Honest."

"No, you didn't. Because you needed her to keep bringing in money and make you feel in control by beating her and keeping her addicted to heroin, you sick son of a bitch," I snapped.

"I know you want this to go slow," Ranger said quietly. "But we need to have his body disposed of before morning. The longer we keep him here, the greater chance of being caught. We've already had him two days without food, water, or rest."

I leaned against the door, bracing myself for what I might see. Ranger stood in front of Caldwell, who was now crying. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might actually come out of my chest. I had prepared myself to watch Ranger start beating him senseless. I hadn't prepared myself for the sight of Ranger snapping Caldwell's left arm at the elbow joint. Caldwell screamed and I gagged. I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch so I was just left with the taste of bile in my mouth. Ranger looked over at me.

"If you need to step out, do it," he replied. "I won't think anything of it."

I was bent over with my hands on my knees. I shook my head, suppressed my gag reflex, and straightened up. My knees felt wobbly so I sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall.

Caldwell continued to cry in agony, but Ranger seemed immune to it. I found myself focusing on Ranger from time to time, when the sight of Caldwell's mangled arm became too sickening. He was in a zone unlike anything I had ever seen out of him. His face, which was usually neutral, was completely blank. But there was a sense of fury emanating from his whole body. If it could have heated the room, it would have baked us all.

He never said a word to Caldwell as he continued. He never once used his hands to hit Caldwell—I suspected it was so he didn't have unexplained bruises—but used various tools instead. A hammer, a screw driver, a knife. There were several more occasions where I found myself gagging or my head spinning as though I might pass out, but then I would remember what he had put Valerie through and it kept me alert. Caldwell had made my sister go through the agony of heroin addiction—not just the high, but the insatiable need for more. He had beaten her, probably raped her, and had forced her to perform sexual acts with God only knows how many men. He had made her too afraid and too ashamed to come home to her family so that she thought the only way out was to die.

Ranger would let each injury set in for a few minutes before inflicting a new one. He would sometimes pace the floor while he waited, other times we would lean against the wall and stand still. He didn't look at me once after the first time I had gagged and he didn't say to me. Part of me wondered if he had forgotten I was still there. I saw him glance at his watch a couple of times, checking the time. The second time he did it, I followed suit. It was three-thirty.

"I need to finish this," Ranger said without looking at me.

"Okay," I said, my voice coming out in a shaky croak. I had been shaking the entire time we had been there, but it grew more violent as I waited. I watched as Ranger pulled a gun out of the bag, put it to Caldwell's forehead, and pulled the trigger. The groans of agony stopped immediately and the silence that followed so heavy I thought I might suffocate. Ranger put the tools back in the bag and threw it onto the plastic next to Caldwell's body. He reached up and unhooked the chains, letting his body fall unceremoniously to the floor. He opened the door and yelled for Tank, who appeared in the room seconds later.

"Have Hector dismantle the room and take anything that doesn't have DNA on it to the landfill in Pennsylvania. Is Montoya expecting us?" Ranger asked.

Tank nodded. "I just have to give him a heads up when we are ten minutes out."

I watched as Ranger and Tank wrapped Caldwell's body in the plastic from the floor before then wrapping that in a heavy tarp while Hector began unbolting the restraints from the floor and removed the soundproofing from the walls. By the time they were done, it look like they were hauling away junk from a renovation, not a the contents of a temporary torture chamber. Ranger stripped out of his clothes and tossed them into a pile that Hector was to burn because it had Caldwell's blood on it. He informed me that I hadn't been close enough to get dirty so I didn't need to change. Ranger and I headed up the stairs first, followed by Tank and Hector carrying the body. There was a gray Silverado truck parked by the back door. It hadn't been there when we had arrived. Hector and Tank loaded the body into the bed of the truck, which was covered by a custom tarp. A similar truck was parked around the corner of the shop, likely meant for the contents of the room.

"Hector will take you home," Ranger said, but I shook my head.

"No, I'm seeing this through."

"If I get pulled over and they find his body, you would go to jail."

"I'm not letting you go to jail without me going as well," I replied. "I thought we were doing this now to avoid that likelihood. Besides, I've driven around with a dead body in my own truck in broad daylight."

Ranger emitted a small sigh and climbed in the truck without further argument. It was almost four-thirty as we pulled away from the shop and headed south. We eventually crossed the river into Pennsylvania and pulled up to a large facility that looked an industrial waste center. Ranger waited while Tank pulled up and spoke to a beefy Latino man that had walked out a side door. He called Ranger's cell phone and gave instructions to back the truck up to the door.

"Stay in the truck," Ranger said as he turned it off. "I don't want anyone to identify you, just in case."

This time I did as he asked, but watched out the back window as they unloaded the body and carried it inside. I could see industrial-sized incinerators hard at work. They put the body on the nearest conveyor belt and the worker pushed a button that moved the belt forward. I couldn't see Caldwell's body actually enter the incinerator, but I knew Ranger and Tank wouldn't leave until they had seen it themselves. I watched Ranger hand the man a large bundle of cash before coming out to get back in the truck. We didn't talk as he drove back into New Jersey and stopped at a different auto shop. This one actually looked in use. Considering it wasn't even six in the morning, it was probably a chop shop. We left the truck and climbed into the Rangeman SUV that Tank was driving. We arrived at my parents' house at six sharp. My mother would be getting up any minute.

"Get inside before anyone notices you're gone," Ranger said.

I had wanted to talk to him, but there hadn't been a good time. He hadn't seemed in the mood to talk right after we left the waste center and then Tank had been in the car with us the rest of the time. I knew I was in need of some time to decompress, cry, and take a long shower. Ranger probably needed the same. I hurried inside and had just started up the stairs when I saw my mother coming down.

"You're up early," she commented as she held onto the railing and slowly made her way down.

"I thought I would go to the bakery," I said, fighting the urge to cry. "Do you want me to pick up anything special?"

I climbed into my car with a list of my mother's bakery needs and burst into tears. Watching Caldwell die had been both horrifying and satisfying. It did help to know that he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else the way he had hurt Valerie and that he suffered for what he had done. The horrifying part had been watching Ranger. I'd always known he was capable of that, but to see it was a different story. I felt guilty for the fact that he had done that for me, knowing it would cause some damage to his conscience.

I went back to my own apartment after dropping the bakery goods off at my parents' house. My mother was doing well enough that she didn't need much help so I didn't feel guilty about leaving. When I arrived back at my apartment, I stripped down and showered until the hot water ran out. Even though I hadn't touched Caldwell, I scrubbed my entire body red while I sobbed.

The smell of smoke reached my nose as I climbed out of the shower. I panicked, thinking something was on fire and ran into my bedroom naked.

"Looking good, babe."

I turned to find Ranger standing next to my bedroom window—which was open—and he was smoking a cigarette. A _cigarette_. I stared at him in shock, not caring that I was naked.

"You're smoking!" I said.

Ranger raised an eyebrow as he put out the cigarette on the window sill and tossed it outside.

"After what you watched me do this morning, you're shocked to see me smoke a cigarette?"

"I think that shocks me more, actually," I said, reaching for my bathrobe. "I knew you were capable of doing _that. _Since when do you smoke?"

"It's a habit I have for about twenty-four hours after I do anything emotionally intense," he said. "You've been the cause of a lot of my smoking days in the past three years."

"Sorry." 

"Don't be. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

I felt my throat tighten. "I thought I already knew that, but you've made it even clearer to me now. It amazes me that you are capable of loving me that much."

I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and kissed him. The kiss deepened and became desperate as he pulled me closer to his body. The robe that I had just put on was discarded, along with Ranger's clothes before we toppled onto the bed. As we laid together afterwards, I found myself feeling more connected to Ranger than ever. We just had been through something more unifying than sex. And it terrified me that he might put me at arm's length again.

"You said you were amazed that I was capable of loving you enough to torture and kill someone for you, but I'm amazed you can love and trust me enough to let me make love to you after you watched me do it," Ranger said as he ran a hand down the length of my side.

"Because I know you and what you're capable of—the good and the bad," I said. "But I'm afraid of you pulling away from me again. You do that whenever we get closer. I'm going to need you through this."

Ranger was quiet for a few minutes and I got worried that I had said too much and was going to scare him away again. Instead, he tipped my chin up so that we were face-to-face.

"I've kept a wall up between us at certain points because I've always thought that you wouldn't be able to handle me at my worst. But I see now that you can, so there's no need for the wall anymore. I want you in my bed every night. I may never be ready for marriage, but I'm ready for more, if you are."

_How could I not be ready?_ I thought as I kissed him. The man had saved my life more times than I could count and now he had helped me get revenge on the man who had used and abused my sister. I wasn't sure that there was a greater love than that.

_**A/N: So this was a one-shot that just popped into my head today and I wrote in just a few hours. I wanted to explore a darker path than I'm used to reading (and writing) about with Stephanie. Thanks for reading. **_


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